


Memento

by Aifrit



Series: Voidstrike Drabbles [21]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Comfort, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/F, Guns, Memories, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Voidstrike, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27420769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aifrit/pseuds/Aifrit
Summary: When Anita unearths an old weapon, the memories of her past life flood back, but not in the way she expects them to.
Relationships: Bangalore | Anita Williams/Wraith | Renee Blasey
Series: Voidstrike Drabbles [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776784
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	Memento

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Memento  
> Pairing: Bangalore/Wraith (Voidstrike)  
> Rating: T for language  
> Words: 1403  
> A/N: Wasn't gonna write anything for Bangalore Week because I've been busy but oh well, here's this fic I wrote. Enjoy!

If there's one thing Anita hates more than business casual attire, it's being _late_ for an event that requires business casual attire. But such is the nature of holding Legend status in the Apex Games. Sign a contract and get beholden to the business events, including the biannual dinner with Jacob Young and his staff. Fun. Luckily, she isn't sitting at his table this time. Last year's laughing fit at Silva's caviar-tapioca switcheroo earned her a spot on his naughty list. Fool deserved it, though.

Ajay and Natalie giggle away in her bathroom with music echoing through the walls. Wraith's mellow voice follows not far behind. They're ready and waiting, finishing up the final touches of their makeup, while Anita scours her bedroom for a missing tie. She hasn't even gotten dressed yet, still fumbling around in a tank top and undone pants. Her search leads her to the closet where she pushes coats and dress shirts out of the way, a hanger full of belts — ah, there's that black one she wants — and reaches up to the top shelf. Rummages around. Nothing. Christ in a handbasket, where the hell did she put that thing?

She reaches further and stops when her fingers brush cold metal. A box, her hidden gun safe. The initial bout of confusion dissipates as quickly as it comes, leaving a heavy weight in its wake. In an instant, she recalls the importance of this box and the weapon it holds and swallows thickly, running her fingers over it in contemplation. She pulls it forwards, bypasses the biometrics with a sequence of fingerprints. It opens with a _click_ and resting inside is her old, trusty pistol — a standard issue series P20.

It's light and cold in her hands as she sits on the bed and observes it. Black polished metal and chrome, clean, not a scratch on it. No mag, either — empty, just as she left it. Kept up well over the years, she admits. No signifying marks on it, but she can still tell it apart from any firearm in a crowd. Can recite the serial number by heart, too.

It's all hers.

The bedroom door whispers open and shut and with it comes Wraith's voice. "Hey, Bang, are you ready to—"

When Anita peers up, Wraith's eyes glow white for a split second, and she tiptoes closer with caution, concern knitting her brows together. Her gaze settles on the pistol. Then Anita. "Are you okay?"

"It's unloaded," Anita confirms. She pulls the slide back — locks with a _click_ — and shows Wraith that no rounds sit in the chamber. The audible sigh of relief hits Anita; probably not a good look to be sitting alone in her room with a pistol in hand. Her mistake.

Wraith sits next to her on the bed. She's nothing short of beautiful — white blouse and black blazer with light makeup accentuating soft features. Hair's down as well, cascading over her shoulders like an inky waterfall. A welcome distraction until she nods at the piece in Anita's hand.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

Hard question to answer truthfully as she doesn't know. Nothing really is wrong, but the gun in her hand weighs her down with the memories it contains. She flips it carefully in her hands while she fishes her brain for the words to answer.

"Found my old gun. First piece I ever owned. Just kinda hit me all of a sudden."

"Your first gun? I imagine there's a lot of memories attached to that. When did you get it?"

"Long-ass time ago. Tenth birthday. Remember it like it was yesterday."

How _could_ she forget? Her party had to be postponed. Radiation in the forecast was too intense that weekend. She chased Jackie and Zeke 'round the house instead after they dabbed Nana's cake frosting on her nose. Annoying little shits. Pops burned a steak, too, teaching Monty to grill for the first time. He claimed that one for himself.

Anita chuckles. Yeah, she remembers it well. Mama and Pops ended the day with the surprise. Promised they'd let her shoot cans out in the back when they taught her how to use this one properly.

Wraith scrunches her nose, glances behind her when Ajay gasps and giggles from beyond the door. "Ten seems a bit young, don'tcha think?"

How adorable.

Anita turns the gun again, wipes a new smudge off with her fingertip. "Nah. You grow up military, you learn how these things work by five, or you're up shit creek sideways without a paddle. Damn near every kid in New Ank got one before twelve."

"New…?"

"New Anchorage," she clarifies. "My home town. Back on Gridiron." Uttering those names hurts a smidge, right in her gut, but not as much as it used to. "Anyone complains about my supposed accent, now you know why."

"You don't have an accent. Well, maybe a little," Wraith laughs softly. She laces their fingers as Anita sets the gun aside, rests her chin carefully on Anita's shoulder. Locks eyes, pensive. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Anita expels a large breath. "I dunno. Had that gun for twenty-eight years and never once had to use it. Still holds a hell of a lot of memories for me. Birthdays, military academy, the… incident…" She pauses, clicks her tongue. "Started a new life on Gaea and Solace with this baby. I just… I dunno, Wraith. Still hurts like hell, but then again it… doesn't. Like I'm expecting my heart to break into a million pieces thinkin' about it. Thinkin' about my family. My Ma and Pops. My brothers." She shakes her head. Fresh tears burn her eyes. A nervous laugh escapes her as she wipes them away. Wraith squeezes her hand in a gentle display of support, leans in closer.

She inhales a quivering breath and her voice wavers when she continues. "But nothing happens. Not anymore. I guess what I'm tryin' to say is… I feel like I _shouldn't_ be okay. But a part of me might actually _be_ okay. Yeah, it still hurts sometimes and I still wanna see 'em again, but I'm not… I don't feel as bad as I used to."

With a final deep breath, she scratches the back of her head then rubs her face, cheeks burning in embarrassment. "Sorry," she whispers. "Was just lookin' for my tie and I end up spillin' my guts."

Wraith pulls her up to stand and dangles the black tie in her face. "Found it in the bathroom." She sets it carefully on Anita's bare shoulder. There's an understanding twinkle in her blue eyes that Anita appreciates, and when she cups Anita's face in her hands, Anita relaxes, heart soaring. "You know I'm here for you whenever you want to talk, okay? You know that, right?"

"I know." Wraith's words and touch prove comforting, and she can only reciprocate with hands resting at Wraith's hips in a gentle hug. She isn't the best at verbal expression, but she knows Wraith understands her. "Hope I didn't scare you."

Wraith hides a smile behind a quirk of her lips. "Only a bit." She pulls Anita down for a rather welcome but conservative kiss, if only to preserve her makeup and coral lip gloss. Wraith disengages, and Anita frowns when a thumb swipes at her chin and the corner of her mouth. "Oh, stop. At least it's not purple like last year," she teases.

Wraith grabs Anita's button-up and vest from the bed and presses them to her chest. "Come on. Gonna be late. Don't wanna keep those two waiting, either."

Anita accepts them with a wry smile and watches Wraith leave the bedroom. The gun still sits there on the bed, slide locked open.

It's funny, thinking about it now, how a weapon has meant so much to her throughout her life. She's a weapons specialist, loves guns nearly as much as Wraith. Seen and held a myriad platforms — plasma ARs and railguns, bullpup shotguns, anti-material rifles, the works. Yet, this trusty little pistol has remained at her side through thick and thin.

She dresses, picks the gun up and closes the slide. Not much left of her old life, and she wouldn't forgive herself if she lost or mishandled this memento. It's all she has left now, and though longing still weighs heavy in her chest, she drives closer to making peace with it everyday.


End file.
